Johanna Mason. Hm. I can't get her out of my head. I find myself replaying the evening, trying to see if she was sending me any signals. The only thing I got is that she doesn't think I'm 'as amazing as I think I am'. But I don't think I'm all that great. She must be doing that girl thing. I don't think anyone understands girls.

Districts 6, 5, 3, 2, and 1 aren't that interesting. Nothing really happens that's out of the ordinary. I just reiterate the same speeches and flirt at dinners, get on the train, repeat. It's tolerable, and I'm pretty good at it too. Finally, we get to the Capitol. Though I'm not relieved by my showing up here. The crowd of rich freaks cheers for me and chants my name so loud it echos throughout the room. I grin in response, and act flirtatious as usual. We stay in the training center apartments like last year. It's clear that nobody's been in here, not even an avox. An empty cup remains on my nightstand table, and my shirt I forgot to bring home is still hanging out of my dresser drawer. The bedsheets still smell like Lily. I still care about her, and miss her laugh. I go through her side of the bed, and her room to see if I can find anything of hers that she left behind. I can't find anything in her room, but I see a white paper sticking out of the nightstand drawer, on her side of the bed. I pull it out, curious. It says, in her neat, bubbly handwriting.

Finnick:

You're an amazing person, and I really do mean that when I say it. If you're reading this it means you did it. I'm so proud of you, I know you could do it.

xo, Lily

PS: Good luck with that Annie girl. You deserve to be happy.

I don't know how to feel. It's as if everyone – my district, my opponents, the gamemakers, hell even President Snow – they all wanted me to win. I'm not sure if I should be flattered, or feel cheated somehow. I decide to not think about it. I just feel sort of bitter. Grant comes in a few minutes later. I wouldn't have heard his tiptoes, but I felt him breathing behind me. He wants to talk, but doesn't want to bother me. I get that. I give him a closed-mouth smile, my lips forming a tight line with the ends curved up subtly. Grant sighs, and runs a hand through his hair. "So you have your first client tonight. She's very rich. You're already dressed – get ready to go. There's a car coming to drive you there. It'll be here in ten minutes." Grant looks like he's about to say something else, but doesn't. As he walks out, I hear him mutter "I'm so sorry this is happening to you, but I couldn't do anything about it. You just don't argue with presidents."

My first client is a wealthy Capitol woman in her mid-thirties. She probably was beautiful at one point, but has gotten many alterations to fit in here. The Capitol has the weirdest fashion trends: pastel skin tint, neon hair colors, fake nails that are practically half a foot long. She's nice to me, but looks at me like I'm a meal. I'm half her age. It's awkward and uncomfortable for me, but she seems to enjoy herself a lot. No matter how weird, I learn a handful of valuable things from her. First, sex isn't romantic – it's passionate. The harder and faster the better, but make sure they come before you do. It's fucking, not love making. Second, you have to kiss their body – their navel, their neck, but never their lips. That's for people you care about, not people who payed to have sex with you. Third, always use a condom. Even if the women say that they're on birth control. Fourth, lways tell the women that they're beautiful or hot. And the last and most important rule: never ever stay the night. Most of them have husbands, and they won't be happy to see you in bed with their wife. I get out of there as quick as I've shown up, and I never come back.

I only have one appointment today. From what I've heard, I could have five to six in a row. It's crazy. But then again if it were normal, it wouldn't be the Capitol and it certainly wouldn't be my life. I have just enough time to freshen up when I get back to the training center apartments before Ariel's dragging my downstairs so I can have my final interview with Caesar Flickerman. He looks exactly the same with his midnight blue hair, sequined suit and eyelids. I wonder if he ages. Probably not. The Capitol has procedures for that, to make you look younger. Back in District 4, you only got surgeries if you were really ill. Here they do it to make them selves look (what they think is) more appealing.

Caesar welcomes me, and the crowd goes wild. They love me. I wave hello, at sit down on the familiar white chair. I don't mind Caesar, as far as Capitol citizens go. He must have it pretty bad, since most of the people he talks to end up dying. I think he's less ignorant about how the Games hurt the districts. Most Capitol people see it as an exciting television show, and don't realize that people are dying since it's so far removed from their lives. He knows how to make the crowd like everyone. It's not a lot of work for him with me.

We have some good natured chit-chat for a little about the victory tour, and some of my outfits. Then, he asks me if anything ever happened with the girl I liked back home. Annie. I shake my head no. "Well Caesar, to be honest. It just doesn't work out romantically for us. But she's still a close friend. Yeah, I'm pretty bummed out, but on the bright side that means I'm single, ladies." I hear a bunch of them cheer wildly, and have to try very hard to stop myself from rolling my eyes. Caesar catches on that I'm trying to act flirtatious, and purposely asks me a few questions so I can play up that angle. When the buzzer goes, signaling the end of my interview, he stands up and gives me a hug. I hear the static in my microphone, which means the audience can't hear me. "Thank you." I whisper in his ear.

Caesar nods, and mumbles, "of course, anytime. You be careful, kid." He then raises my hand in the air, and shouts: "Finnick Odair, the victor of the 65th Annual Hunger Games!" There's a deafening roar of applause, and I walk off stage. That wasn't that bad. I have the night off. Tomorrow's the party at the President's mansion, and then I get to go home and have a celebration in my home district. Things'll go back to a relative normal, and then a few months later, some poor innocent kids will get reaped to kill other poor innocent kids. Whoever wins will go through the same cycle. It never stops, and it never will.

What was the Capitol's point of having the Hunger Games in the first place? We've all seen that terrible video about the Dark Days that they play every year before the Reaping. It talks about war, terrible war and how 65 years ago, thirteen districts rebelled against the Capitol. But why? Surely they had a reason. District 13 was blown up, and the other 12 have to make their kids fight to the death every year. Wait, I get it. The only time the districts have united, or shown friendship with another district was 65 years ago. If people hate other districts because of the boy from 6 killing their child, or the girl from 1, killing someone else's child, they'll never join forces to bring down the Capitol, ever again. As much I hate Snow, the previous President, and whoever created these terrible Games, I have to admit that they were pretty smart. I'm never having kids. They could get reaped, and that in itself is terrifying to think about.

The next day is pretty lazy. I have another appointment, and I think I'm a bit better in bed now. I only have appointments when I'm in the Capitol for mentoring, victory tours or anything of that sort. Practice makes perfect. By this time next year, I'll probably be a sex god. Not that it'll go to use. I wouldn't want to date anyone, or have sex with anyone I care about. Who would date a prostitute? Besides, most people my age are still virgins. For good reason too. Fourteen or fifteen year-olds who have sex for the first time probably won't know what they're doing, and might even get pregnant. That in itself is terrifying. It's like Dahlia being Adrienne's daughter. I know one teenage mother. I've seen her walking around 4 before. She's sort of a pariah, but nobody will admit it.

I get back to the apartment a little after two in the afternoon. I have enough time to take a short nap, shower, and get ready to go to the party being thrown in my favor.

While I obviously have nothing pleasant to say about President Snow, I have to admit his mansion is nothing short of amazing. It's in the center of the Capitol, but is secluded by a long winding road. It's four or five stories tall with and must be at least ten times the size of my home in the Victor's Village. I would never want to live in a house that big. It must be lonely. I know Snow has a wife and children who are full-grown and married, but the idea of him loving anyone or anything besides power and money is incomprehensible. How could anyone with children condone teenagers fighting to the death? I shake these thoughts out of my head. Now is not the time to be moral. I'm cocky Capitol Finnick Odair, and I need to start acting and thinking like a celebrity.

I talk and dance and sip bubbly champagne (when Grant slips me some) with the important people Ariel points out to me. I walk around, and try to sample at least a bite of one dish from every tables. There's separate tables for soups, salads, vegetables, fruit, each kind of meat, pastas, 'district food' and tables full of side dishes. There has to be at least thirty tables just for desserts.

Some of Juliette's friends find me throughout the night to offer congratulations, or just to say hello. I recognize most of them from her wedding to my dad. While that was quite a few years ago, I still remember how kind and excited but overly-freakish looking they were. That was my first experience with Capitol people, and I haven't changed my mind about them. I dislike Capitol not just because of their luxurious, wasteful, extravagant, narcissistic nature that just makes them unbearable to talk to for more than a few minutes at a time. I really, really, deep-down despise them because they don't know how they impact others, and how many people they've indirectly killed for their entertainment. I honestly wonder how Capitol people stand each other sometimes. I also don't know how the mentors manage to converse with them. I guess if the lives of two children are on the line, it's tolerable.

In my opinion, the most terrible thing isn't that I have to spend even more time with and around Capitol people and that I'll be sleeping with them against my will for money I don't even get. The worst part is I'll be responsible for even more deaths; at least one for every year. That's one person who could've been a classmate or even a friend of mine. I'm still in the age range of twelve to eighteen, which are the ages that kids are able to be reaped in. Annie could get reaped. I know for a fact she'd die early on. Even for a girl from a Career district. Annie is too good of a person, too morally right. She wouldn't hurt a fly. The games are even more despicable from a mentor's standpoint. We experienced them, have nightmares about the time we spent in the arena, and have to go back to the Capitol every year and come home having murdered even more children. And since I'm the youngest victor, I'm gonna mentoring every year until there two more victors from District 4 are crowned. That's at least five years, or 8 kids. Probably more. Still, my body count will be 20.

I try to enjoy my party. The food is exquisite, and the musicians are very talented. I don't know the songs, because they're made by Capitol musicians, but they're good at singing, and everyone at the party loves them. I flirt with the purple-eyed bartender, and she sneaks me half a shot of some type of liquor in my soda. It burns my throat and I feel terrible for drinking, and vow not to ever try it again until I'm 16. 16's the legal age for everything in the Capitol – drinking alcohol, getting morphling in hospitals, and smoking cigarettes (what Natalie does). I drink the rest of the soda, and follow it with a glass of ice water, before making my way over to Ariel, Grant and Natalie. They appear to be saying goodbye to people.

"Finnick!" Ariel calls when she sees me. "Are you ready to go? Our car is here. I hate being late for anything. I hope you enjoyed your party. It was extravagant, and absolutely fantastic! I love working for District Four. Anyways, I've had a thank-you note sent out to the President from you. Come on now, we have go get some rest. Your train to take you home here will be here at eight o'clock sharp." Ariel hurries my two mentors and I onto the train and says goodbye. "I'm going to my home now. I'll see you on Reaping day!" She kisses my cheek and bows in the way that all polite Capitol people do to say hello or goodbye.

I let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding in when the car starts moving down the street, away from President Snow's mansion. I feel so much better when I'm not near him. I lean back on the seat in the back of the car, not even feeling squished between Grant and Natalie. Grant looks at me quizzically, but then smiles a little. Natalie just puts her hand on my shoulder. "You did good, kid." Grant tells me. He opens his mouth, as if to say something else, but shakes his head and shrugs. Natalie raises one of her perfectly tweezed eyebrows at him, with the same look of confusion I'm wearing. "We'll talk later." He tells her. I feel slightly excluded, but I try not to think about myself for a minute. If it concerned me, Grant would tell me. Chances are, it has nothing to do with me. And with everything that's been going on, I don't know if I want to know what Grant means to say if it's about me anyways.

When we get back to the training center apartments, it's a little before one. We're getting up at seven to get on our train back home to 4, which I'm looking forward too. I'll probably sleep on the train or something. I crawl into bed, and try to get a few hours of sleep before we leave.

I do get a few hours of sleep, but its haunted by nightmares. I dream of the purple-eyed bartender being my avox, and Annie being reaped. I wake up with a sweaty forehead and headache at five-thirty, and luckily, manage to close my eyes peacefully for a little more. I'm jolted awake by a second nightmare, where Johanna Mason is in the arena and kills me with my trident slowly and painfully. It's six, so I probably could try to get more sleep, but I don't. Instead, I just stand under the hot water in my shower for a good hour, before slowly getting dressed and packing up. Against my better judgement, I bring home the note Lily left for me. It's too bad she was reaped the same year as me, or at all. If she was a better fighter, maybe she would've won. She was beautiful. Then again, Lily would have been forced into prostitution like myself. I wonder if I should keep a list of all the people I've slept with. It's not that long: just Lily and two Capitol women. That list only has one person that I care about. *

A few minutes into the train ride, there's clanking and a loud boom. The train's broken down, and according to an attendant, it needs to be sent in for repairs. Grant, Natalie and I are escorted to a hovercraft that will bring us home to District 4. It's not like the hovercraft I took to our coming out of the arena. This one is meant for passengers. It's shaped like an eight, with the front circle being a room where the pilot drives and the two Capitol attendants sit. It's connected via a door to the passenger seats, which there are twenty of, in five rows – two chairs on each side. Each chair has it's own small television and a small platter with food and a mini bottle of white wine. It seems unnecessary for an hour-and-a-half long flight. It's easy to sit that long, and just keep to yourself. Then again, this is meant for Capitol people. They have a ridiculous need to be constantly entertained, and go to crazily extreme extents like the Hunger Games. It's almost pathetic. I wonder what most Capitol people do for a living. They probably work at a job with short hours and not a lot of actual work involved. Most Capitol people don't even wake up until after ten or eleven. I didn't even do that on weekends, and now my nightmares prevent it.

I sit still for the whole hovercraft ride, only moving to thank the attendant that refills my plastic cup of ice water every fifteen minutes. I see Grant and Natalie shoots me looks, but don't say anything. I'm thankful for that. I'm glad to be heading home, but I feel changed. As if District 4 isn't my home anymore. If the home I've known my whole life isn't a home to me, then what is?

The hovercraft begins it's slow decent to District 4. We must be close. I become slightly anxious, and grip onto the side of my chair so hard my knuckles turn white. I relax my muscles when I notice Grant's eyes trained on me. I take a few deep breaths, and take my bags from the chair next to me. Just act normal. But a little bit cockier. I step out of the hovercraft and into the blinding white sun. I feel more at ease just being back in District 4. I wave at the large cheering crowd. Unlike in the other districts, the people here actually like the fact that I won. Probably with a few exceptions, like Lily's family. I wonder if they hate me. Grant holds onto my bags, and I give my victory speech in front of a temporarily built stage (just for me), adding a few words here in there , making it personalized just for 4. Mayor Hill hands me a plaque and a bouquet of roses. I'll be having a dinner at the mayor's house, so I'll be seeing the mayor soon, in around an hour. I have enough time to freshen up and change into a suit. Usually, there's a large festival in the middle of the district buildings, but it's been canceled due to a large fire that took place there three or four days prior to my arrival.

I've always admired Mayor Beth Hill. She's the first woman mayor that District 4's ever had, and is very outspoken. Mayor Hill always does what's best for the District, and is compassionate. She must secretly hate the Games too. Her husband and her have a daughter named Caroline. The idea of getting a child reaped is terrifying for all parents. Caroline, or Cara is a beautiful girl, and most of the boys in the district have drooled over her at one point or another. I had a crush on her a few years back, but I don't think she's ever noticed me. I don't really care either way. The last thing I want now is female attention. Besides, Sebastian likes her right now. He's probably the closest friend I have besides Annie. I miss Annie. Ever since I told her that I have feelings for her, she's been a little distant. We still talk all the time, but I feel like our friendship is a little tainted. Regardless, I haven't seen Annie for a while since she's gad school and homework and I never have to go to school ever again.

Still, the dinner is nice. Mayor Hill, her husband, Cara, important people from the district, Grant, Natalie and I are all at a large table in the dining room. The dinner is fish that's native to 4, and is served with wine and a buttery pasta. Cara is wearing a short, tight silver dress, and her long brown hair is in a bun with a few pieces left out around her face. She keeps touching my foot with her own, and giving me small flirty smiles whenever our eyes meet. I wonder what she's up to. After the dinner, we all move to the lounge while the two waitresses clear the table and prepare dessert. Cara sits next to me on a couch in the lounge, sitting very close.

She crosses her legs, and her skirt rises up so I can see the tops of her thighs. Finnick, stop that. Stop being a teenage boy for a minute. She tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear and licks her pink lips. "Finnick Odair, hm?" She thinks out loud, pausing for a minute. "You were in my class when were were seven, nine, and thirteen years old, right?" She nods, and leans on me a little. Reapings are held on July second every year. She must have started year fifteen in September, and the year's almost done. It's the end of February, and school ends in June. My birthday is in April.

I look around. We're the only people in the room – all the adults are at the bar. Cara places her hand on my leg, and I look at her quizzically. "What are you doing?" I ask her. Is she making a move on me or something?

Cara laughs. It's an amazing sound, and the high-pitched peals of laughter seem to echo off the high ceilings and wallpapered walls. She sighs, and mutters something under her breath. "It's not that hard to figure out. I've seen how you've been staring at me. Not just tonight, but the past few years. You're hot, I'm hot, what are you waiting for? Here's your invitation." I pause, letting it all sink in. Cara Hill, the most popular girl in District likes me of all people. Rather, she thinks I'm hot. This is all pretty new to me. Then again, I'm pretty attractive, by the Capitol's standards. I mutter 'fuck it' under my breath, and put my hand on Cara's neck, careful not to mess up her hair. Before I can stop myself or regret it, I close the small gap between our lips.

A/N: Did you like it? Be honest. Reviews = love!